


Your Mother's Eyes...

by kerys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerys/pseuds/kerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry, Hermione and Ron find Snape dying during the Battle of Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Mother's Eyes...

The Dark Lord had left him lying there, struggling for air, his wounds fearsome, but possibly not fatal in and of themselves. He knew it was the venom that would take his life. Poison for the potion’s master. _But there was something…_ His hand twitched towards his coat pocket. When he heard the door creak open, already he could scarcely move, but he cut his eyes to the side, thoughts swimming as Potter and his two shadows slipped in.

Lily’s son knelt at his side, concern incongruous on James’s features, so often seen twisted with distaste. Potter lifted a hand to Snape’s neck to staunch the flow of blood from the wound inflicted by the Dark Lord’s wand. The dying man opened his mouth to speak, to tell the boy… What? What words could suffice?

“Take them.” Somehow, he lifted his hand, and it required an Atlantean effort to wave towards his own tear-stained cheek. “Take them,” he begged, but his words were mere breaths falling past his lips, “please…”

The boy fetched a flask and held it to his face, catching the tears as they fell.

“Take them to the pensieve.” Potter looked down at the flask of memories, before Snape’s voice snared him one last time. “Look at me” He did, and Lily was in his emerald gaze, looking out from that face that Severus hated. “You have your mother’s eyes…” _But there was something else…_

The venom coursed through his veins, dulling his senses, slowing his thoughts. His hand fell, fingers curling against the material of his coat pocket. _There was something else..._ Darkness took him.

Potter sat back on his heels a moment, unbelieving; confused by the grief that coiled in his belly. Then he saw Snape’s fingers twitch again. He lurched forward, scrambling at the pocket beneath the dying man’s hand, to find a bezoar wrapped in a scrap of parchment. He stared at it an instant before hastening to press it past the older man’s sallow lips.

“Come on…” He waited, watching for the merest of movements… “Come on, Professor…”

But minutes passed and Snape’s dark eyes continued to stare past him, unseeing, so when Voldemort’s whisper hissed through their souls with his threats and challenges, the children left, thinking there was nothing more to do for the man they believed to be their fallen foe.

* * *

Time passed, in the cold and the dark. The bezoar counteracted the venom much less efficiently than it would an ingested toxin, but his blood began to clot, aided by his slowed heart, and in time the paralysis lessened. Severus shuddered and gasped, lifted one shaking hand to his neck as the other groped for his wand.

“Vulnera Sanentur… Vulnera Sanentur… Vulnera Sanentur…” His voice was frail, however, his will remained strong and most of the wounds knit themselves into ragged scars, but weakness clutched at him once more and his consciousness spiraled again into darkness.

* * *

Snape flinched away from the glaring lights overhead, lifting an arm to shield his eyes as he sneered at his discomfort.

“Professor?” If the voice was tentative, more so was the feather touch at his shoulder.

“That’s Headmaster,” he growled in reply, finally blinking fully awake to glare at whomever disturbed him. Harry Potter stared back at him, all adolescent awkwardness.

“Um… Actually, sir, I’m not sure that it’s either right now… How are you feeling?”

“You… You’re alive.” His voice was devoid of emotion. He thought he had sent Lily’s son to his death, after struggling to protect him for so long.

“Um… Yes, sir. We won… Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?”

“No. How long has it been? How did you survive?”

“Two days. And, I… I don’t rightly know… Voldemort’s curse killed the bit of himself that he accidently hid in me. Then we dueled…” He trailed off with an embarrassed shrug. Perhaps the modesty wasn’t entirely false after all.

“He’s gone? For good?” He reached unconsciously for his arm, where the Dark Mark stained his flesh.

“Yes, sir. And Neville’s killed Nagini…” Almost imperceptibly, Severus flinched at the name. “I thought you might like to know.”

“And what have you told them? About me?”

“That Professor Dumbledore was right. That you were working for the Order all along. I gave them the details of his death… the curse that was killing him, the Vow and Draco… all that. And I told them that you stayed on with Voldemort and came back to Hogwarts to try and protect the students as much as you could. I didn’t say anything about… about my mum… or me.”

Snape closed his eyes again, exhausted by the exchange, exhausted by the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

“Everyone was tending to their… to… the fallen. I thought mum would want me to look after you, but when I went back to the boathouse… You had moved. Not a lot, but… well, I brought you back up to the castle.” Harry gestured pointlessly at the walls around them, and somehow Snape managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

It was then that Madam Pomfrey bustled in to check on her patient and was shocked to find him awake and conversing with Harry.

“Out!” She swatted at Harry with her wand. “Out, you hooligan! You should’ve fetched me at once! The Headmaster needs his Blood-Replenishing Potion and his rest!”

“But, Madam…” the boy protested.

“No! Out!”

“Alright, alright.” He laid a small glass flask on Snape’s tray table, and turned to leave.

As he reached the door, Severus stopped him with a word. “Potter.” Harry turned back, curiosity shining in his eyes. Snape looked away, gaze on the ceiling as he spoke. “I am… grateful.”

Harry hadn’t expected it, didn’t really know how to respond. He nodded. “Me, too, Professor.”

* * *

Snape stood behind his old desk in the dungeons, scowling out at his advanced potions class. “I cannot imagine why any of you would have chosen this course over Professor Slughorn’s NEWT classes, but you have, and you can expect no silly anecdotes or currying of favors in this room.” He was interrupted by the door: a student daring tardiness on the first day of his class. The tousle-haired young man turned after closing the door as quietly as he could and Severus scowled. “Potter. What possible reason could you have for interrupting my class?” The students gasped and turned to stare.

“Sorry, I’m late, Professor.” He combed his fingers through his short, dark locks and turned toward a cauldron in the rear of the class.

“That’s Headmaster, Potter. Do you mean to tell me that you’re taking this class?”

“Yes, sir. I want to be an auror.” A few quiet giggles littered the room.

“Silence! …So I seem to recall. They aren’t hiring on past deeds alone? Horace doesn’t have room in his class for his prize student?”

“I wanted to take your class, Headmaster. Sir.”

“Oh? You _wanted_ to? And yet, you couldn’t be bothered to first learn when it starts?” He stared at the boy, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out the reason for this nonsense. “Five points from Gryffindor and two weeks detention, Potter. Now sit down and shut up.”

Harry nodded acquiescence and took his seat.

* * *

Class ended. The students filed out in dumbstruck silence, most of them already dreading the year ahead. Harry brooded as he packed up his books and turned for the door.

“Wait, Potter.” The boy dropped his bag on the floor at his feet with a sigh, and several other students tried to linger surreptitiously in the doorway. Snape spun on them with a sneer, his robes flaring around him like great black wings. “Did you want to share his detention?” They scattered and he waved his hand, slamming the door shut behind them. After a moment, he turned back, long fingers clasped behind him.

“Well, Potter. _What_ is the meaning of this?”

“I’m sorry I was late, Prof… Headmaster. I was still getting my schedule sorted out with Professor McGonagall.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant. I don’t want you in my class. In fact, I believe I made it quite clear that I only take outstanding OWLs.” The boy had the gall to look hurt.

“I was able to retake my potions OWL at the ministry, sir. I scored an outstanding.”

“ _Did_ you? Did you also hear me say I _don’t want you_ _here_?”

“But, why, sir?”

 _Because you are a constant reminder of everything I loved and hated, everything I wanted and lost, of the life I will never have…_ “Because you are a lackluster student and a distraction to my class. Transfer, and I will wave your detention.”

“No. I’m taking this course.” Despite the defiance, he still looked hurt. His green eyes gleaming with pain. Snape turned away, unable to look at those eyes. Harry stared at his back for a long moment before continuing with resignation, “I thought things would be different.”

Severus whirled, hands clutching the collar of Harry’s robes as he forced him back against the door, hard enough to knock his glasses off. Growling, he demanded, “ _Why_?! _Why_ should things be different?! Because you _saved_ me?! How many times do you think _I’ve_ saved _you_ , boy?!”

Harry clutched at the Headmaster’s wrists, eyes wide, breath fast. “I thought it would be different because it’s over… because he’s gone. I thought… I hoped it was an act, you hating me.”

Snape slammed him against the door again, shouting in his face. “How dare you?! How dare you keep looking at me with her eyes in his face?! I _want_ to hate you, Potter!” And he kissed him. A starving kiss, brimming with thirty years of longing for Lily Evans. A brutal kiss, seething with thirty years of hatred for James Potter. A desperate kiss, teeming with a lifetime of loneliness. A long kiss that left Harry wanting for breath and wanting for more, hard, confused, and a little scared. Severus drew back slowly, his face unreadable. He stared into Harry’s eyes for the span of a heartbeat before turning and stalking across the dungeon, his robes billowing behind him until he vanished behind the office door.


End file.
